


Playing with Fire

by Prettie_Parker



Category: Narcos (TV)
Genre: Boyd Holbrook - Freeform, F/M, Narcos - Freeform, imagine, steve murphy and OC
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-21
Updated: 2018-06-08
Packaged: 2019-02-18 04:38:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13092573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Prettie_Parker/pseuds/Prettie_Parker
Summary: Don’t play with fire. That’s what they’ve told you since you were just a little kid. Seemed simple enough. The heat always keeping you at bay. But there was something about those flames, the way they danced and swayed. Always beckoned you. Calling like a temptress, a siren, casting spells in a tongue only the two of you knew. Calling from somewhere deep inside you hardly knew and couldn’t escape… Come and play.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Please note, I can’t guarantee you’ll like yourself in this story, but you might be surprised and I can promise it’ll be honest and real. I’ll tell you from the jump, I don’t foresee a happy ending, but as a writer it’s a story I really wanted to tell, a challenge I wanted to take. I’m hoping you’ll give it a chance
> 
> I also wanted to say I always try to write you as a strong character. You might have weak moments, we all do, but I try to write you as a strong person. Hope that comes across.

Playing with Fire

Don’t play with fire. That’s what they’ve told you since you were just a little kid. Seemed simple enough. The heat always keeping you at bay. But there was something about those flames, the way they danced and swayed. Always beckoned you. Calling like a temptress, a siren, casting spells in a tongue only the two of you knew. Calling from somewhere deep inside you hardly knew and couldn’t escape… Come and play.

You were naïve, though it wasn’t all that long ago you thought you had seen it all. Growing up in an area where hard work and struggle was a part of life, you’d always wanted more.

Especially after watching so many settle for less. Casualties of circumstances, chewed up and spit out like food for fodder in the grander scheme of things.

Nothing phrased you and maybe that’s how he found you. Your jaded invincibility your weakness. He had it all where no one did. He was going places. Could have had any girl he pleased, but he chose you and you chose him.

You wore that honor with pride like a shiny new badge, a badge that’s now worn and dull with a hard dose of reality. He showed you things you had never seen, a world you only could have dreamt of.

You weren’t blind to the way he made his means, but you weren’t shocked by it either. You had already seen so much.

You understand the hard lessons they don’t teach in school, the ugly truths no one says aloud. Like dirty money is easier to make than clean. And clean money is only meant for certain people, and that wasn’t you or yours.

After burning up the city for months, he sprung the opportunity of a lifetime on you. Told you he wanted to take you to the most beautiful place in the world, where he came from, where you would live like kings while he handled some business.

And after everything he’d already given you, well… You loved him, you trusted him, and therefore you wanted to believe him.

But you would learn all too late that his promises were empty. That he was either a liar or more naive than even you, you never got the chance to find out which, because he was gunned down in the streets of Medellin four months after you arrived in Columbia.

You ended up in a place more ugly than any you’ve ever known. Where debts and grudges are settled with blood and bullets and greed runs only one color… white.

You had wanted to go home, but had no means to get back. His friends as he called them looked after you, the pretty young thing that you were.

One in particular took you under his wing and that’s when you realized there was no going back.

They weren’t going to let you go home. You knew too much. Saw too much. Or they thought you did. You were a prisoner now as much as a guest.

That’s how you find yourself running frantically down the hall of an old decrepit building, as a barrage of bullets rain down around you. Plaster explodes and spits off the walls, glass shatters and flies, the sound echoing and bouncing all around like a tornado that’s just landed on top of you.

You can’t tell how close the bullets are as your heart pounds so hard you think it’s going to beat right out of your chest. The loud pops go off all around you in rapid succession as everything descends into chaos.

You can hear men shouting words you don’t understand from every corner, their voices echoing all around as your run as fast as you can to get away from the gun fire.

Moments ago, a large group of men stormed the building before the fire fight broke out. You didn’t stop to see who it was, you didn’t care, as bodies started to drop your only thought was survival. You were on your own here and in way over your head.

Racing down a back hall in the old building, you hear the gunfire rounding at your back, the bullets firing at a more paced rate than in the front of the house, but they were still coming. Your mind races as you search for any hope of safety.

Charging into an open room, you quickly close the door behind you as it if holds any hope of saving you.

Your eyes scan frantically around as your panicked breath heaves, the room is lined with three small beds pushed up against the walls, with a few stools and chairs littering the center.

The sound of stomping boots and flying bullets grows nearer as panic pumps wildly through your veins. With nothing to defend yourself with know you have to hide.

Scrambling over toward the beds, you wedge yourself between two bed frames crouching low against the ground and wall.

Your breathe rattles out against your hand in fear as you try desperately to stay silent and unseen. Your eyes squeeze close as you pray to any God that’s listening. You just want to go home.

Suddenly a man kicks in the door, the crash so startling it sends you slamming back against the wall in fright. The man spots your almost instantly, his gun raised at you as he changes forward.

Instinctively you throw your trembling hands up, begging for mercy. You don’t want to die here, not like your boyfriend and so many others.

“Please!” You plead, tears of terror stinging your eyes as the man charges toward you, gun aimed squarely upon you, the barrel of it staring tauntingly back at you.

You don’t have time to think or react before he snatches you by the arm, yanking you out of your hiding spot and pushing your down on the bed face first.

Pulling your arms behind your back, you feel his knee press down into you, pinning you. Pulse pumping in your ears, only then do you realize he’s handcuffing you, you’re being arrested.

“Soy americano! I didn’t do anything. Innocente por favor! Please!” You cry into the blankets your face is shoved against, spitting out what little Spanish you know.

Only after you hear the cuffs click, do you feel the man grip your arm tight and flip you over onto your back against the mattress. His grip still firmly around your arm as you meet two dark narrowing eyes that stare down at you in disbelief.

“Por favor, please!” You plead with him on a heavy shaken breath, tears slipping from your eyes.

“American?” He repeats, his gaze scrutinizing you.

“Yes! Si!” You answer on a frantic breath.

He stares at you for a long moment with a look you can only decipher as disbelief before he finally speaks again.

“What are you doing here, baby?” The man with dark penetrating eyes answers you, a sense of relief washing over you when you realize he speaks English, he understood you.

You quickly learn the man who arrested you is a DEA agent from back home. Agent Pena, he tells you. A man who looks far too handsome and charming to be a DEA agent, but right now, he’s your only hope and he seems pretty interested in anything you might know.

You find yourself loaded into the backseat of a Columbian police vehicle as Pena stands guard outside. You’re not sure if it’s to keep you in or others out, but he doesn’t move, not even when another man approaches.

A tall blonde haired man, with piercing blue eyes, and a mustache that’d give Burt Reynolds a run for his money. A man who seems as out of place here as you do.

Agent Murphy, you hear Pena call him. That’s the first time you ever see him. You didn’t know it then, but only after everything was done and said, after all the damage was done and irreversible, would you come to wish you two had never laid eyes on each other.

“Who you got?” Murphy questions on approach, his piercing blue eyes surveying you like a specimen on a platter before his attention turns solely to agent Pena.

“American, wrong place, right time.” He elaborates, before pitching a cigarette between his lips and grabbing your bag from the front seat of the vehicle, showing agent Murphy something of interest he had found in it.

You only asked for your bag so you could show agent Pena your passport, prove you were an American citizen, but he kept it and its contents for reasons you didn’t understand.

“She’s an American. We gotta hand her over Messina. Let the embassy take it from there.” You hear Murphy explain. You don’t who this Messina is but surely, the embassy will help you get home.

You stay silent, pretending to play with the frayed strips of leather peeling off the seat of the car, but you’re really hanging on every word.

Getting the sense your best play is to remain silence for now. You’ve managed to get the cuffs off and Pena seems interested in helping you. You get the feeling making demands right now would only back fire.

“Messina’s just as likely to hand her over to Colonel Pinzon, and with his way of handling things, sicarios will have her in an hour. Nah, she’s safer with us till we can figure out exactly what she knows.” Pena’s answer perks your interest.

Your heart sinks with the news and your nerves start to prickle. The only reason you were talking with him, cooperating is because you want to go home.

Should have known better than to trust a cop, even one as charming as this guy. You’re about to open your mouth and protest when agent Murphy says something that catches your attention.

“Let me guess, you’re just the guy to keep her safe?” It’s not the words he says as much as the way he says them. The hairs prickle on the back of your neck.

Pena was nice, too nice. A real charmer, and you barely just met the guy. You can only imagine how it would go down if you found yourself under his personal protection, but nice or not, you were tired of men expecting something in return for doing you a favor.

“No Murphy, you are.” Pena answers with a pat on the back that almost feels like sarcasm, taking both you and Murphy by surprise.

Your eyes drift up from the seat to the blonde-haired man with his back to you just as Murphy slowly turns around, meeting your gaze.

There’s something in his eyes, something close to irritation as his gaze narrows upon you. You watch his jaw set, before your eyes quickly drop back to the peeling leather.

No, protection from this guy was going to be nothing like protection from the first, but then again maybe you could use that to your advantage. Get him to send you home.

You didn’t know anything anyway and once they figured that out, surely they’d send you packing.

You thought you knew nothing. You didn’t ask questions after coming to Columbia. That was both your blessing and curse. Turns out you were exposed to more than you realized, that only became more apparent as you tried to prove you didn’t know anything and win your ticket back home.

You began to understand why the cartel hadn’t let you leave to begin with. You’d seen things, met people, gone places that Pena and Murphy seemed all too interested to know about.

Worse yet, you even had a few pictures in your bag. Not of men or their dealings- No, you were far too smart for that, but you did have a few polaroid’s of places your boyfriend took you before he died. The two of you together. So much for memories. 

A part of you knew you should have burned those pictures the day he died.

Those pictures and your knowledge landed you a one-way ticket to agent Murphy’s pad on an extended stay. Which turned out to be as luxurious as it sounded.

See when Pena said protection, you weren’t exactly sure what he meant by that, but being hauled up at agent Murphy’s apartment, not allowed to leave or go outside for two weeks straight wasn’t it.

Despite your best efforts to stay out of his hair you and Murphy were like oil and water. He made it clear from the jump he didn’t want to babysit you. He also made it clear, his house, his rules.

Which meant you stayed inside and didn’t touch his shit. The place was a mess, empty bottles and forgotten plates mostly. Steve wasn’t much for cleaning up after himself.

You could tell a woman once lived there with him. The ring on his left hand was also a dead giveaway, but it was clear a woman’s touch had been lacking for a while.

And anytime you mentioned his wife, you could see the hairs prickle on his skin with irritation, so you dropped it.

Despite Murphy’s attitude and the unwelcome living arrangements, you still found yourself inexplicably intrigued by the man. He was driven and took his duties seriously, you respected that.

And his unquenchable thirst to catch Pablo was a passion you had never seen before.

And God help you, Steve was also handsome. That tousled blonde hair, soulful blue eyes, and smile that left you mesmerized like looking into the sun.

You hadn’t really realized that the first time you saw him, but as the days set in and you spent more time together, you quickly realized the sight of him could make your heart pump a little faster in a way you hadn’t expected and hated.

But he was married and a DEA agent, which made you hate the feeling even more. Which only made matters worse being cooped up in his apartment all day.

Meals were rough between you two and this one was no different. One of the few times you two seemed to sit down together and do something in a non-official capacity.

You both tried to be pleasant, but the mood was tense, and things had a way of getting heated quickly.

“I just need to get a little air. At night, maybe. No one would be expecting-“ You calmly suggest as you fiddle with your fork, moving the rice around on your plate as you try to reason with Steve yet again.

“No,” Steve answers unequivocally, shutting the idea down before you can even finish it as he takes another swig of his beer.

Your jaw tightens with his quick and unreasonable response.

“I need to get out of here. I am going to lose my mind if I stay cooped up in this place much longer.” You grind out, now looking squarely at him from across the table.

“Well I don’t really give a damn what you need, sweetheart. My job is to keep you alive, not fill your needs. You gave up your right to a normal life when you followed your boyfriend down here.” He retorts back, meeting your gaze point for point.

“I didn’t know-“ You start, before he swiftly cuts you off.

“Didn’t know what? That he was a drug dealer? A murderer?” Steve throws back at you snidely with a challenging arch to his brow and unrelenting gaze that stabs right through you.

  
That’s the finally straw and you snap as you push back from the table and rise to your feet.

“Don’t you dare get self-righteous with me. You wanna tell me no one’s ever died from a trigger you pulled, a call you made!  You’re all the same! Just because you hide behind the law and carry a badge doesn’t make it right. And it sure as hell doesn’t make you better than me.” You shout back at him, the power of your words and heat of your anger near boiling point.

Storming from the table, you move to the Livingroom, pacing feverently about the small space. Like a caged animal.

The walls were closing in on you. They got what they wanted. Why couldn’t they just let you go. You felt like you were losing your mind. And after your latest argument, you couldn’t take it anymore.

“Fuck this,” You spit out as you storm for the door. You don’t know where you’re going and you don’t even give a damn. You just need some goddamn air and space from him.

You make it two steps outside the door and into the hall before you feel a strong arm snake around your waist.

Lifting you off the ground, your back goes flush against his body, as Steve carries you back inside. You struggle against him, resisting as you watch the door shut.

“Get your hands off me! Let me go!” You protest against Steve’s hold on you, too mad and upset to see straight.

You feel his arm slip free from around you as he pushes you gently against the wall beside the door.

His hands go up as if in surrender, to show he doesn’t have a hold on you anymore as he pins you to the wall with a pointed stare.

“Goddamnit!” Steve hollers, his anger getting the best of him as well as he slams his palm down against the wall on the space above your head.

Anyone else you might have been intimidated, but somehow you know Steve won’t hurt you. If he was going to strangle you he would have done it by now.

Glaring up at him, his body hovers over you, arms on either side of your face against the wall. Practically pinning you to it without touching you, you hold your ground as a heated breath blows past your lips.

“Why do you gotta make this so goddamn hard?” He growls through a tight jaw, piercing blue eyes barreling into you.

You let out a heated huff, holding his gaze, not backing down. “You can be a real asshole too, yeah know.” You throw back.

Steve holds your gaze for a heated second, before a rattled breath blows quickly past his lips.

Dropping his face, he huffs quietly to himself. His head shakes slowly from side to side before he glances back up at you.

A more calm and reasonable look to his gaze as his hand drops from the wall to lightly cradle your jaw and cheek.

“I shouldn’t have said that, alright, but you gotta give me a little break here, ok?” He concedes, his eyes pierce into you.

Your eyes grow wide with his touch as your gaze flickers to his arm. Something must register in your gaze, because Steve instantly let’s go of your face, something close to startle filling his blue eyes before his hand returns to the wall beside you head.

Letting out a slow breath, you nod. “Yeah, ok.” You agree, the close proximity of you both slowly setting in as your anger fades.

You become acutely aware of how close your bodies are, of how close he’s leaning over you and your heart starts to thud a little harder as you curse yourself for even noticing.

“I’ll get you a little time outta here. But you gotta trust me to know when it’s the right time.” He offers, and you can tell he’s really trying as his eyes gaze heavily down upon you.

Biting down on your bottom lip to try and combat the sudden speed of your heart, you nod in return.

“Ok.” You answer, wishing he would step back from you so this feeling would go away.

A crooked grin edges at the corner of his mouth in response as he gazes down at you for a moment longer, before a quick breath blows past his lips and he pushes off the wall, away from you.

“I gotta check in with Pena. Stay put. I’ll be back later.” He says, moving for his gun and badge without a second look your way.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You feel his fingers begin to play with the hairs at the back of your neck as you glance up at his face in the dark room.
> 
> “You know, you’re not so bad when you’re not giving me hell.” Steve smirks down at you as a light chuckle slips past his lips. 
> 
> A lightness finally filling his penetrating blue eyes.
> 
> His mesmerizing smile makes your belly clench as a smile finds its way on your face too as you gaze up at him. 
> 
> You’ve never really seen this side of Steve. Only glimmers of it on occasion. You didn’t know he could be playful or funny.
> 
> “I do believe that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me. You aren’t going soft on me now, are you?” You laugh back, playing along with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This part centers around 2.03 of Narcos and how I imagine things could have gone in this setting. Also, I do not condone cheating of any kind, but as a writer, it’s an interesting to explore what can happen between people when they are put in a hard place they never thought they’d find themselves before.

After your big blow out, you and Steve seem to reach a turning point. You both make an effort to make this living arrangement work for as long as it needs to. 

You make a point to give him less grief. You’re the first to admit you can be a bit guarded with people in the beginning. 

It’s a lesson you’ve had to learn the hard way in this life, but the longer you spend with Steve, the more you find those walls coming down. 

The more you realize, maybe you two aren’t on opposite sides of this thing after all. You’re just two people thrown together in a weird situation. 

As you ease off, Steve starts to open up more too. Your time together becomes less tense as you both fall into an easy routine.

Steve even keeps his word about getting you out of the apartment, but always on his terms and you respect that call. 

Never at the same time, never on the same route, never for long, and he’s always on edge the whole time. 

His eyes scanning about like a fox looking for a hound.

You always enter the car from the garage, this time’s no different as Steve places a bulletproof vest on you. 

You hold your arms out loosely at your sides as he pulls all the straps perfectly in place, trying to get the vest to fit you as best it can.

You can’t help, but laugh about the vest he insists you wear, but you oblige if it’ll make him feel better. 

He is doing you a favor and it’s his job to keep you safe after all.

Giving the straps another quick once over, Steve steps back from you.

“Good,” He says, satisfied with his work.

You watch him pull his revolver from the back of his pants, watch him open the cylinder and make sure all the bullets are accounted for before snapping it back in place.

“Alright,” He gives the go ahead with a motion of his hand as you climb in the vehicle, crouching down against the floor as he moves to open the garage door.

Only after Steve has pulled the vehicle out, reclosed the garage, and gotten back in are you allowed to come out of hiding.

“Remember, if shots are fired-“ He starts, reminding you for the hundredth time before you cut in and beat him to punch.

“I drop down across the seat and hope you’re not using this as some lame excuse to get my face in your lap.” You shoot back sarcastically, a playful glint in your eye as your face turns his way.

Steve shoots you a pointed look from the driver seat. His blue eyes piercing you as the vehicle rolls steady down the street.

“Kidding,” You say, flashing him a smile as you try to lighten him up a bit.

Steve grips the wheel tighter, his eyes return to scanning the streets for any signs of danger, but you catch sight of the smirk that edges at the corner of his lips. 

You count that a victory for your team.

Watching the sun set on the horizon- a beautiful array of reds, oranges, and purples smeared across the sky, as thick warm air dance across your skin through the window, and the low hum of the engine lulls your body, you realize this isn’t so bad. 

You could be in a much worse situation, with much worse company.

“Thanks Steve,” You say turning back his way as he diligently keeps watch. His eyes find yours briefly as he offers you a subtle nod.

As the ride carries on, a story from the news fills your mind in the silence that hangs between you. 

Your Spanish has greatly improved now that you’re home all day with little more than the TV to watch. You caught the coverage on a recent massacre of Columbian police officers the other day, Pablo behind it, of course. 

The tragedy was horrific, but you didn’t understand at first why the story lingered and haunted within you. 

Sitting beside Steve now, watching as the breeze streams in through the window sending wisps of hair falling into his determined eyes, you finally understand why.

“Are you- Are you safe out there, on the streets I mean, doing what you do?” You ask hesitantly, watching the profile of his face, watching the way he brushes the hair away from his eyes. 

Not sure when you started caring about his well-being.

Steve glances your way, your eyes meet and hold for a heartbeat longer than they probably should have, something unreadable revealing itself in his gaze before it returns to the road.

“Course,” Steve answers you simply.

Barely knowing him as you do, even you know that is a lie. 

You can’t explain the heaviness that settles on your heart as your gaze drifts back out the passenger window, the sound of Medellin streets filling the space between you.

You’re sound asleep when a loud crash fills the room ripping you from your slumber. Your eyes shoot open, your heart pounding with a start. 

The room around you is completely dark, but incoherent mumbling fills your ears right away, along with the distinct sound of more items tumbling and falling.

They found you, they’re searching for you and if they find you, you’re a goner. 

The words pound hard in your heart as it picks up its pace. You know it as sure as you know that your lungs are still breathing… For now. 

Steve still hasn’t come home yet, so much for protection. 

And you have no idea where he keeps his weapons, assuming he has more than the assigned firearm he keeps on him.

Taking matters into your own hands, you crawl off the couch as quietly as you can. 

Tucked between the couch and coffee table, your hands and knees dig into the shag carpet. 

The noises grows closer as you spot one of Steve’s empty beer bottles on the coffee table. 

You know what you have to do. Grabbing the empty bottle by the longneck as quietly as you can, you slowly rise to your feet.

A shadowy figure looms just a few feet away. Larger than you, telling you it’s a man, but who else would it be. They wouldn’t send a woman to silence you.

Squeezing the bottle tightly in your grip, you swallow your fear and charge forward.

“You picked the wrong girl to mess with!” You yell out, raising the bottle into the air, ready to swing, as you charge forward.

With seconds to spare, a light flickers on and you see Steve standing in front of you in just enough time to lower the bottle and stop yourself before you would have smashed it over his head.

“Hey, hey hey!” Steve yells back at you, his hands flying up, surely ready to take you down if it came to that.

You stare at him in stunned disbelief, your hand falling over your pounding chest as you try to catch your breath.

“Jesus Christ Steve, you scared the shit out of me!” You tell him on an exasperated breath, trying to calm the racing of your heart.

“Feelings mutual, sweetheart,” He practically slurs back, stumbling against the kitchen table as he tries to move for the almost empty bottle it appears he was working on before you interrupted.

You look around and realize what all the ruckus was, bottles had fallen off the table, his ashtray now lies face down on the carpet with cigarette butts everywhere, a flower pot lies tipped over near the front door. 

A whole trail of destruction lie across the apartment leading straight to Steve. And looking at him carefully now, you see why.

“You alright?” You ask rhetorically, suddenly aware of how drunk he is. 

Since staying there, you’ve seen him knock back a few after a long day, liquor seems to help him unwind, but he’s currently struggling to stay on his own two feet.

“I’m fine,” Steve answers unconvincingly as he reaches for the bottle of tequila, pouring himself a glass in a cup you’re pretty sure has been sitting out all week.

“I can see that.” You answer back sarcastically with a slight nod. 

Watching Steve toss back the glass of tequila like it’s nothing, you get the sense something’s not right, something happened. 

This is none of your business, but he’s also never been this drunk in front of you before. Too bound to the badge to get sloppy in front of you. 

And if there’s one thing you know, it’s men like Steve. Men who push all their feelings into a small manageable corner of their heart, then drown it at the bottom of a bottle, hoping it’ll go away.

You and Steve aren’t exactly friends, but it’s hard for you to see him like this. He’s clearly struggling with something. 

You know you might be over stepping your boundaries, but you’re willing to take that chance as you move to him, taking the glass out of his hand.

“I think you’ve had enough.” You say gently, moving the cup beyond his reach.

“I said I’m fine.” Steve spits out on a short breath as he reaches for the glass you keep just beyond his reach.

“Then what you’ve had already should be enough.” You counter, placing the glass on the far end of the table.

He lets out a low grumble in protest, but doesn’t fight you any further. 

Instead you watch as he attempts to move to the couch, bracing his hands along the furniture as his feet move labored and uneven. 

You can’t imagine how he got home. You don’t want to think about him driving like this.

Dropping onto the couch, you watch Steve’s head fall back against the top edge as he runs a heavy hand down his face with a deep sigh.

Everything about Steve tells you something went wrong today and though you don’t mean to, it’s concern you feel. 

He needs someone right now, whether he knows it or not. Surely his wife would be best. The one he won’t talk about with you.

Pena? God, only knows where he is at this hour. And if Steve looks like this, you can only imagine what Javi must be up to. 

Here Steve is all alone, leaving only you. Your relationship may be tenuous and ill defined, but he’s been good to you lately, kept you alive, kept you safe, that meant something.

Walking around to the front of the couch, you kneel on the ground in front of him and watch as his face slowly rises off the back of the couch. 

His eyes catch yours in the dim light, his eyebrow slowly curving in question, you’re sure trying to figure out what you’re doing.

Making your intentions known, you reach for his shoes and begin to untie them as your voice quietly fills the room.

“Wanna talk about what happened today?” You ask him bluntly, with a calmness you hope helps to set him at ease. 

You see no need to beat around the bush, he’s so hammered anyway he might not be able to follow.

You feel the weight of Steve’s stare heavy upon you as you pull off his shoe before glancing up to meet his glaze.

“No,” He answers simply, but his eyes say something else. 

His piercing blue now radiate with a deep heavy sadness. A look that tells you there’s a story there. 

Something raw and painful. Something he was hoping the tequila would drown.

Nodding, you drop your gaze back to his shoes. 

Not wanting to push him somewhere he’s not ready to go, but you’re surprised by how heavy your heart grows with the sight of his pain.

You finish taking off his other shoe before rising to your feet. 

Placing a knee on the couch, you brace your arm on the back of it and lean across him. 

Hand skimming around the line of his belt, reaching for the gun you saw on him earlier, but in an instant, he snatches your hand and you suddenly realize your mistake.

This isn’t one of your boys from back home. He’s not an old friend or family member. 

You’re still just getting to know each other and even though your intentions were good, you just crossed an invisible line.

Startled by his touch, your eyes drift to him only to suck in a sharp breath as you realize how close you two actually are. 

Your faces hovers just inches apart as his tormented eyes barrel into yours. 

The feel of his warm breath vibrates on your face and sends a shiver down your spine.

Something surfaces in his eyes with your closeness. Something you can’t read, but leaves your cheeks feeling flushed. 

Letting out a shaky breath, you try to explain as you pull your hand from his grip and move back, trying to create distance.

“Sorry, I was just gonna put your gun and badge on the coffee table for you.”

He eyes you carefully without a word before you watch him reach around and untuck his gun and badge, placing them both on the coffee table before him like you suggested.

You hesitate for a moment, after what just happened between you two, before forcing yourself to not overthink it and reach for his arms, pulling him to his feet.

“What’re you doin’?” Steve grumbles on loose lips, but doesn’t fight you nearly as much you had worried he might.

“Getting you to bed.” You explain as you sling his arm over your shoulders and wrap yours around his back before moving toward the bedroom. 

He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t fight you and for that you are grateful.

The distinct aroma of tequila and sweat surrounds him and winds its way up your nose as your both move slowly. 

You’re not sure how you didn’t notice it before, but you become acutely aware of it now.

On anyone else you might crinkle your nose, but Steve just seems so broken tonight, the scent only seems fitting.

Reaching his bed, you move around to the front of him, bracing his other arm so he can sit on the mattress. 

You surmise he probably could have made it to his bed on his own, but the mess he left in the Livingroom certainty begs the question. 

And you find yourself wanting to help him, feeling for the guy. 

After all the time you’ve spent together lately, Steve’s become a constant in the chaos of your life over the past few weeks. 

You find he matters to you now, whether he should or not.

Holding his arms to position him onto the edge of the bed, you’re surprised when you feel Steve’s hand come up and rest along the side slope of your neck, his long fingers and wide palm covering almost the whole surface. 

Surprised when you feel his fingers begin to play with the hairs at the back of your neck as you glance up at his face in the dark room.

“You know, you’re not so bad when you’re not giving me hell.” Steve smirks down at you as a light chuckle slips past his lips. 

A lightness finally filling his penetrating blue eyes.

His mesmerizing smile makes your belly clench as a smile finds its way on your face too as you gaze up at him. 

You’ve never really seen this side of Steve. Only glimmers of it on occasion. You didn’t know he could be playful or funny.

“I do believe that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me. You aren’t going soft on me now, are you?” You laugh back, playing along with him. Enjoying this side of Steve even if it is liquor induced. 

Until your smile and the breath of your laughter quickly dies against the hold of his lips as Steve takes you by surprise yet again and, captures your mouth in a kiss.

You feel his face brush gently against your own, his fingertips digging lightly into your scalp as he tenderly weaves your mouths together. 

Instinctively you give into the hold of his lips, kissing him back. His mouth feels soft and inviting as your heart starts to pound harder in your chest. 

He tastes like tequila and cigarettes, and something distinct you know must be all him as your mouths open together. 

You clutch his arms tighter, feeling his muscles beneath your palms as his moustache tickles the space below your nose, but his touch and kiss is gentle in a way you hadn’t expected.

You’re surprised by how good it feels to be touched by Steve, the way his kiss radiates down through you, but you know this is wrong. 

He’s drunk and married. This is all wrong, you think as you quickly bring your hand up to his chest and step back, breaking the kiss.

“You should get some sleep.” You say as you take another step away from him. 

Your face hanging low, watching your feet as they idyll in the carpet, hesitant to look up at him.

“Shit,” You hear Steve curse at himself low on his breath. “Listen, I’m sorry. I shouldn’a-“

He starts to apologize before your face quickly whips up to him to stop him before this is anymore awkward than it already is.

“It’s alright. You don’t need to apologize. I get it.” You try to reassure him. 

You understand the situation, he’s drunk and hurting. 

Not the first guy to make that mistake, won’t be the last neither. 

And whatever’s eating him up inside, he doesn’t need the guilt of this foolishness on top of it. 

You both know what happened, best to leave it at that. 

Just the same, you offer him a quick smile and move for the door.

When you glance back over your shoulder at him, you find he’s taken a seat on the edge of his bed. 

You’re almost to the door when his voice stops you before you can leave.

“You were right,” Steve says on a low gritty breath, hidden in the dark. 

His words causing your feet to stall completely as you turn back his way.

“What’s that?” You ask, not sure you follow.

“I don’t know who the good guys are anymore.” Steve admits on a heavy breath, his head hung low before his drags a hand over it.

You stand there, unsure of what to say. His words only further proving what your gut has been telling you all along, something happened.

“I don’t believe in bad men, Steve. Just good and bad choices, and men who have to live with the ones they make.” You finally say, not sure if your answer is what he needs to here, but it’s your truth. 

It had been the point you were trying to make the evening of your fight too.

Steve lays back onto the mattress with a heavy breath, his body stretching out like a board against the blanket.

“Watched two men take a nose dive out of a chopper today and I didn’t stop it. What does that say about me?” Steve tells you, his eyes staring up at the ceiling, his breathe calm, but heavy.

His words rattle you, you can’t imagine what he’s seen today. 

Can’t imagine the load it’s placed on his heart, but the weight of it only confirms what you already thought about Steve Murphy… he was a good man, trying to do the right thing in a fucked up situation.

Taking a chance, you walk back over to his bedside. 

His eyes catch you on approach, something uncertain in his gaze as you do. 

You hesitate under the caution in his eyes, but only for a moment before reaching for his hand and taking it.

“I know I don’t know you well, but I can see you’re in pain. I don’t know the circumstances around what happened today or why, but I think you would have had them play out differently if you could. That’s more than a lot of men can admit. You’re a good man, Steve. I just hope all this doesn’t make you lose sight of that.” You tell him, opening your heart and being honest in a way you’re not sure you should. Especially after the drunken kiss.

But part of you thinks maybe the kiss is exactly why you need to say this to him, be this honest. 

He clearly needs to feel like someone’s there whether he realizes it or not. You only hope your words can bring him some semblance of comfort or reassurance.

Giving his hand a gentle squeeze, you let it go. 

“Get some rest,” You tell him as you gently sweep the hair off his forehead. Offering him a subtle smile before you go.

You’re surprised the next morning when Steve manages to get up at his usual time despite the massive hangover he must be battling. 

You on the other hand hadn’t slept most of the night. Risen bright and early as dawn crept in through the slates on the blinds. 

You kept yourself busy, picking up the apartment. Giving your hands something to do while your mind kept going over it all. 

Trying to determine if you handled things the right way. You and Steve had just started to find a peaceful coexistence, one you fear now may be ruined.

You were just pouring yourself a cup of coffee when he came out of the bedroom and joined you. Agent Murphy, ready to go, bright and early.

“Just made a fresh batch.” You tell him casually as you offer him a mug from the cupboard. 

Trying to assess whether things are going to be awkward or normal between you two after last night’s events.

Steve only meets your eyes briefly, offering you a subtle nod and a quick ‘thanks’ as he reaches for the mug and moves for the coffee.

Awkward it is then, you think. Not that you can blame the guy, he has more at stake over what happened last night than you do. 

Figuring he wants space, you move to leave the kitchen when his voice stops you.

“Listen…” He idylls for a second, waiting for you to stop and turn back his way before he continues. 

“What I told you last night, you weren’t supposed to know any of that… If someone found out about that I could lose my job, maybe worse.” He explains matter-of-factly, but you can read the underlying concern in his eyes that are finally willing to meet yours.

Your lips purse as you give a nod of understanding. 

“As far as anyone is concerned, you came home and crashed last night. That’s all I know.” You reassure him. 

You don’t know where last night leaves you and Steve, but you would never betray him. 

Despite what could be the beginning of an awkward shift, Steve’s been good to you for the most part. 

And you’re not an idiot, you can imagine the ramifications that would result if information like that got out. 

You expected him to bring up the other elephant in the room, but maybe he’s not ready for that.

Bringing the steaming mug of coffee in your hands back up to your lips for another sip, you hear Steve offer a quick word of thanks in return as he turns from you. 

Assuming he’s said his peace, you turn to leave as well when the feel of Steve’s hand on your arm stops you this time, your heart picking up its pace under his unexpected touch.

“Wait-“ Steve says, your face turns back to meet his, before your gaze falls to the hold he has upon you- the one making your heart thump a little harder despite your efforts to stop that. 

His eyes follow suit before he rapidly releases you and takes a step back with an uneasy cough.

“What happened between us last night…” Steve stalls at first, tripping over his own tongue.

His gaze holds yours and for a split second you see something in his eyes, something you saw last night too, something you don’t know what to make of, before you watch his gaze drop, watch his fingers fiddle with the ring on his hand before he continues.

“I love my wife. We may be going through some shit right now but… What I did was wrong, it was a mistake that shouldn’t have happened.” Steve says, finishing strong, his voice strangely devoid of feeling in a way that sounds pressed and has you wanting to end this conversation as quickly as possible.

“Then let’s pretend it didn’t.” You all but insist, the ring on his hand reminding you of your own guilty conscience.

He nods subtly and you both stand in awkward silence unable to look at each other for a long and painful moment before you move to leave as Steve simultaneously turns in the other direction, back to his coffee.


	3. Part 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is centered around Narcos 2x04. Also I don’t condone cheating, at all. But as my friend so eloquently pointed out, the tension is so high for Steve. He really is at a breaking point and that’s how this unfolds. As a writer I wanted to to challenge myself with this story. To writing things I’m not entirely comfortable with in an honest and thought provoking way. So while I don’t think Steve would normally do this, given the circumstance…

The last 48hrs were a whirlwind that would inevitably change it all. A catalyst that would take an already fragile situation and blow it to pieces. 

Life has a way of doing that, pushing people to the absolute brink. This was one of those times. When hope felt like it had been ripped away and all that remained was a cloud of uncertainty. 

It’s times like those when our baser instincts push forward. When our minds and hearts are too tired and beaten down from the fight to hold the reigns. 

Self-preservation takes over and our gut instincts find their way to the surface. The choices they make lack logic or reason, and yet, we still have to live with them… For better or worse.

Col. Carrillo had been gunned down in the streets two nights prior. Ambushed alongside so many of his men in a brutal bloodbath. 

You watched the aftermath of the carnage on the television. Bodies scattered along the sidewalk, corpses pinned in cars as the streets ran red with their sacrifice. 

The sight of it had left you nauseous, barely able to watch, unable to look away. You had met Colonel Carrillo during your time in questioning. You know how closely he worked with Steve and Javi. 

And for several long frantic minutes, biting down hard on your bottom lip as you fought to hold back the tears bursting at the brink in your eyes, you were terrified Steve might have been among the casualties.

Until Pena had been kind enough to call and give you the news, reassure you he and Steve were alive. 

He let you know Murphy would be in Bogata for a few days and gave you a number if you needed anything, but it was a message he relayed in an almost unrecognizable voice. 

You wanted to ask if he was ok, but Pena had been uncharacteristically brief and that spoke louder than any words could have. 

It wasn’t until Steve returned a few days later to get his suit for the funeral that you began to see the toll this loss had taken. He looked like shit, beaten down and disillusioned.

You had cleaned the apartment while he was gone, brewed some fresh coffee while he packed. He seemed grateful, but his eyes only looked empty and defeated.

Steve went to the funeral alone, there would be no reason for you to go, but you found yourself drawn to the coverage of it on the TV. You hadn’t lost anyone and yet your heart felt heavy, almost as if you had. 

Concerned, you waited up for Steve afterwards, but as evening settled into night, and night grew deeper by the hour, you began to wonder if he was coming home at all. 

He certainly wasn’t obligated to. This was his home, but you were just a guest at best. He didn’t owe you anything more than he was already doing, but still you waited, that look in his eyes this morning, as he stood before you in his navy-blue suit, it haunted you.

The hour growing late, you were just about to give up and turn in for the night when you heard Steve get back.

Coming down the hall, you spot him, pulling a half empty bottle of tequila out of a paper bag before pouring himself a glass. 

You watch him silently from the shadows for a moment. He still looks handsome in his navy-blue suit, but his tie hangs a little loose, top button undone, his hair slightly disheveled like he’s been running his fingers through it too much. 

But it’s his eyes that worry you again, even from this far away. His usually intense gaze looks absolutely exhausted and beaten down in a way you’ve never seen before all this. 

He looks even more defeated than he did in the morning, if that was possible.

Moving toward him, you make your presence know. 

“Hey,” You call out quietly as you reach the table, your hand coming to rest along the rounded edge of it.

Steve looks over at you with a heavy gaze, a brief smile curling at the corner of his mouth like maybe he’s happy to see you’re there, maybe.

“Hey,” Steve answers on a low gritty breath as his gaze drops. 

He hardly looks your way as he moves around the table with his glass, pulling out a chair before he lowers himself into it.

It’s almost as if you’re not even there as he stares out into nothing- lost in his thoughts. 

His shoulders fallen as he sits slumped in the chair as if the weight of the world rests on him.

Your heart pulls for him and the pain he’s in. Without a second thought, you trust your instincts and go to him. 

Unable to just stand there and pretend you don’t see his suffering. You’re not that kind of person.

Placing a hand gently upon his arm, you stand before Steve, watching him carefully as he drowns in his sorrows.

“You ok?” You ask, even as the words sound ridiculous coming off your breath, because you already know the answer.

Obviously he’s not, but still Steve tries to pretend as he meets your eyes briefly and nods yes to the question, stoic to the end. 

But as you stand there, unwavering, your thumb gently sweeping against the arm of his suit, Steve begins to falter, beings to break.

Slowly his head starts to shake from side to side, unable to hold it all together any longer as his face crumbles and emotion thick huffs heave off his chest.

For a split second, you’re not sure what to do before you find yourself reaching for him, and to your complete surprise Steve eagerly moves into your embrace, surrendering to the comfort he so badly needs right now. 

A whimper leaves his breath and breaks your heart as you wrap him in your arms and pull him close. 

Your arm encircles his back, the other cradling his head as he burrows against you, quiet sobs shaking through him.

Trying to comfort Steve, your fingers gently slip through his hair as you envelope him, leaning down you don’t think twice before placing a brief kiss upon his hair. 

This pain feels eerily familiar, you understand it in a sharp and uncomfortable kind of way. Not too long ago this pain had ripped through you too. 

When you lost your boyfriend to the violence of Columbia. You never got to mourn him, not really. You had been so angry with him just before he died. You felt betrayed, lied to, but you had still loved him, and losing him so suddenly, so violently, had shaken you. 

At the time you had held it together the best you could. Alone in a foreign country, relying on others to survive, but his death had ripped a hole in you. 

And feeling Steve’s loss as his arms clutch you desperately, his ragged breath vibrating against your ribs, you feel that pain find you again as tears brim your eyes. This is a pain you understand far too well.

You hold Steve as the sobs quietly rack through his body, shaking his shoulders, making his back tremble beneath your hand. 

Biting back your own tears, your own sense of loss, you hold him as grief drags him under. 

And in that moment, you aren’t a woman under his protection and he isn’t a DEA agent, you’re just two people who have been strangled by the pain of loss. 

Two people who know and understand its grip intimately well.

You hold him until the tears subside. Until his rattled breath slowly begins to even out. 

You don’t know how long you stand there, but as long as you feel Steve’s grip upon you, his fingers digging at your back, you hold him just as tight, needing each other in that moment.

You lose all sense of time, wrapped up in Steve and the comfort you find in each other. 

His breath feels rhythmic, his hold steady on you, but somewhere in this timeless space you become aware of a shift. 

Subtle, barely noticeable as you lie tangled up in each other’s arms finding solace. 

It’s the feel of Steve’s breath deepening against your ribs. 

You can feel the warmth of his breath through the fabric of your tee-shirt as he breathes you in and slowly exhales back out, his face buried snugly against you. You feel Steve’s arms faintly clutch you tighter. 

For a moment, you wonder if your mind is wandering, making things up that don’t exist. 

Until you feel it, his mouth against you, kissing you gently through the fabric of your shirt.

A shiver runs down your spine, your breath quakes unsteadily off your lips as you involuntarily clutch Steve a little tighter. 

Your eyes slip closed as his mouth moves tentatively against you, his breath heavy as you feel his hands slowly move from around your back, tugging up the fabric of your shirt. 

You can’t think as his face touches your bare skin, his nose lazily nuzzling against your ribs, the feel of his hot breath making your stomach clench as gooseflesh breaks out across your skin.

“God, you smell so good.” You hear Steve’s husky breath faintly whisper against your skin before he kisses you again, his mouth warm and inviting, his mustache tickling your skin as you clutch him tighter.

Steve’s mouth dances across your sensitive skin in a way that makes your head spin, your pulse pump.

“Steve,” You whimper out, trying to bring some reason to this madness you’ve somehow found yourself in.

Your eyes open as you feel his face pull back from your body. 

Looking down, all you see is Steve’s intense blue eyes staring back at you. Darker then you’ve ever seen. 

A shuttered breath quivers past your lips against the power of his gaze as his hand reaches up to roughly cup your cheek, pulling you down into a searing kiss. 

A kiss that sends a spark shooting through your body like a firecracker unleashed in your veins. 

And in that moment you know you are absolutely fucked. 

All the quiet simmering tension between you two. All the tiny sparks of chemistry pushed under the rug. It’s all been unchained and there’s no putting this beast back in the box.

Steve is already rising to his feet as you pull him toward you, wanting more. 

Your hands comb through his hair, seduced by the soft texture of it lacing through your fingers as Steve wraps an arm around the small of your back, pulling you desperately close to him. 

You can’t breathe and you’re not sure you want to as your mouths hungrily explore each other. 

Both so starved of real intimate connection for so long you’re practically ravenous. 

Everything buried under and forbidden between you two suddenly springs to life as your mouths collide. 

You find yourself moving blindly, one foot after the other as Steve maneuvers you back down the hall. You don’t need to open your eyes to know where you’re going.

You’re surprised by how badly Steve wants this. You’ve been silently keeping your own attraction at bay, but as he strips your clothes off as fast as he can get his hands on them, you start to wonder if you’re not the only one who’s reached a breaking point. 

You try to keep pace, tugging at his suit jacket, the buttons on his shirt, but Steve’s even quick to help you with that as you reach his bedroom and stumble in. 

The back of your legs collide with the mattress before you take a seat. The hunger in Steve’s kiss awakens something desperate inside you too, something raw and in need of human contact as your mouth trails down his chest. 

Moving greedily along the lines of his body, your senses lost in the smell and taste of him.

Steve’s hands weave through your hair, the sound of his heavy breath and low deep groan drive you on as your fingers work loose his belt buckle. 

You barely get his pants undone, before Steve shoves you back onto the bed. 

You gaze up at him, breath heaving, startled for a moment before you watch as he drops his pants and climbs onto the bed with you, eyes so dark and intense you forget to breathe as they aim right for you. 

Your heart thumps as Steve moves over you.

For a second your mind races, pounds- what are you doing? What the fuck are you doing and who the hell do you think you’re doing it with? 

Guilt starts to pound fiercely in your heart as Steve tugs at the strap of your bra, pulling it off your shoulder as his body lowers down on top of you, but then he’s devouring the skin the strap just covered and your body feels on fire again, your mind losing all train of thought. 

Steve sucks and nips at your flesh, tugging off your bra as your heart races, as intoxicating heat rushes your body and a deep insatiable need starts to build inside you again.

Your back arches against him craving more as your hands explore the mountain terrain of his strong arms. 

Then Steve’s mouth is dragging across you, mustache pricking along your collarbones, sending your nerve endings on fire as his palm cups the fullness of your breast. 

His mouth not far behind, leaving warm wet kisses you melt beneath, before his tongue finds the peak of your breast, swirling, gently nipping, before he draws the bud completely into his mouth. 

You cry out, clenching him between your thighs as your fingers dig into the muscles of his arms.

It’s been so long since you’ve been touched so intimately, you feel like you’re coming apart at the seams.

“Please,” You beg, not entirely sure what your begging for as Steve continues, moving to your other breast, his arm snaked under your back, curving your body closer to him. 

You need this, you fucking need this, the thought pumps through your brain to the pounding of your heart and the swirl of his tongue. 

The last few months, since you came to this place, have been damn near hell, it’s all been building up and mounting inside you. 

And with Steve’s mouth hot on your body, you realize, this is exactly what you need, to just let go.

You feel his arm slip from behind your back with your pleas, snaking up your thigh, gooseflesh forming in his wake, before sneaking past your panties.

You hear a strangled breath leave him and mingle with the sound of your own as Steve touches you for the first time. His face falling heavily against your breastbone, leaving wet kisses against your skin as his fingers slowly stroke you.

“God, you feel good, baby.” Steve groans, his voice edgy and unhinged as his face nuzzles against your neck, his thumb swirling against your nub as his fingers sink inside you, making your head spin and your breath pitch.

Hearing the husky rich need in his voice, you finally realize- Steve needs this too. Maybe even more than you. 

Living alone in a foreign country, doing a job that just got his counterpart brutally gunned down, a job that could make him pay the same price any day, a job that’s already cost him parts of his soul. 

You’ve seen it since staying with him, the mounting pressure, the cracks as he starts to buckle, you’re the release Steve needs.

“I want you,” You demand, your voice heavy as you bow up against him, meeting the rhythm of his hand beat for beat to make your point. 

Trying to satisfy the need growing more and more demanding inside you as you surrender to the moment completely.

Your nails dig into his arms as Steve’s fingers curl and hits a spot inside you that leaves your whole body shaking, you’re breathe gasping his name- fuck you’re already so close. 

You wonder how he knows just where to touch you, before quickly banishing the thought, already knowing the painful answer.

Your hand slides between your waring bodies trying to touch the length of him when Steve suddenly pulls back, yanking your panties down your legs with him so fast you’re amazed they don’t rip.

Your eyes open just in time to see Steve descend back down on you, blonde hair falling wildly over his forehead, sweat glistening on his brow as he stares back at you with a dark urgency. 

Your wrap him in your arms as his hand finds your face. He meets your eyes only briefly before you feel him push inside you. 

Your eyes fall closed as you cry out against the delicious sensations rushing through you, clutching him tighter. 

You grip fiercely at the muscles on his shoulders as Steve’s forehead falls heavy against yours and his hips rock deeper into you.

Wrapping your legs around him, you angle your body to move with his, greedily wanting all of him. 

If you’re going to losing your soul, you’re going to lose it chasing heaven right through the gates of hell. 

Steve’s mouth finds yours once again, sucking the breath right off your lips, swallowing your cries as your back arches against him, your hips rocking in unison as you meet him thrust for thrust. 

His hand cradles your cheek, kissing you desperately as if the taste of you could save him.

“Steve,” You cry out against him lips as he pushes deeper into you, moving in a way you swear will sends you over the edge any moment.

“Fuck,” Steve grunts against your open mouth, his weight braced against his arm as his hand tangles in your hair, holding you close. 

His other hand squeezes the back of your thigh, gripping it tightly against his hip for leverage as he pounds inside you. 

As you both drive head first into the path of absolutely destruction.

You kiss him harder as he drives you to the edge, ready to teeter over. The only real release you’ve had since you came to this unforgiving place and all the misery it’s brought you. 

You lose yourself completely to Steve wanting to give him that same release. 

Knowing you’ll hate yourself in the morning for this, but here in the moment, nothing feels more right.

You find yourself lying naked in a bed beside Steve, his sheet tangled around you, soft against your bare flesh, the room shrouded in darkness except for the light streaming in from the Livingroom. 

You stare up at the ceiling, the white walls staring back at you as you gnaw on your lower lip, trying not to cry. 

What the hell did you just do? What the fuck were you thinking? Oh, that’s right, you weren’t- you were too busy feeling. 

Feeling on another woman’s husband, the way you still feel the slickness he left inside you against your thighs. 

That truth rattles through the hollows of your heart. And you’re not the only one tortured by it. 

Steve hasn’t moved since he came and climbed off you after coming to his senses, hasn’t made a sound. 

Staring at that same damn ceiling as if it offers you both some unforeseen road to redemption.

You can hear him breathing deeply as your thoughts drift to him and what he must be thinking, what he must be feeling. 

The thought of the guilt alone feels suffocating as that room suddenly feels too damn small. 

You have to get out of there, you think as you finally rise in the bed, clutching the sheet close to your exposed body as your eyes scan the floor for your cloths. 

Pieces lying everywhere as if living proof of your frenzied crime. Your throat tightens with the sight of it as the first tear rolls down your cheek. 

You quickly wipe it away, but more just keep coming. Your heart pounds hard, you have to get out of there, but none of your cloths are as close as Steve’s discarded button down shirt, so you snatch it and pull it on as you quickly climb from his bed.

You wipe quickly at the tears on your cheeks as your eyes catch Steve’s. His face is unreadable, but the sight of your tears gets him moving. 

You look away, but out of your periphery you see him rise out of the bed and snatch his boxers as you quickly button up his shirt and move for his bedroom door.

You almost make it before he catches you, his arm snaking around your waist to stop you as he pulls your back to him. 

Your toes dig into the shag carpet as you feel his face come to rest against the back of your head, his breathe heavy against your scalp as you suck in a shuttered breath, holding back more tears.

You feel his fingers curl into your side as your body trembles against the weight of your uneasy breath, his own rattling against you as his face slowly nuzzles your head. 

Steve doesn’t say it, but you can sense it, he’s trying to make sure you’re alright, as alright as anyone can be given the circumstances.

“This isn’t on you.” He finally whispers, his mustache pricking at your scalp, trying to take the blame.

But that’s not true, you know you’re equally couplable. Summoning your courage, you turn and face him. 

There’s tears in those tortured blue eyes of his as they stare down at you. The guilt is suffocating, strangling your heart like a vice grip, but the look on his face tells you it’s nothing compared to his.

“I’m so sorry, Steve.” You manage to spit out on a quiet raspy breath. Needing to say it. Needing him to hear it.

His hand leaves your back to find your cheek, his thumb dragging across it as he looks at you, his eyes drilling into yours for a long moment in a way you know is dangerous, even now.

“Me too,” Steve’s strangled breath agrees as his hand drops from your face and he steps away.

Without warning, Steve turns from you, grabbing an electric fan off his dresser and throwing it across the room with such force the plastic busts into pieces when it hits the wall.

“Fuck!” He yells violently as your shoulders jerk, startled.

As he turns back you see tears glistening in his eyes before he breaks your gaze, moving to his bed, he takes a heavy seat on the end of it. 

You can’t help but notice how broken Steve looks sitting there in only his boxers, shoulders slumped forward as his face falls into his hands.

What the hell have you both done?


End file.
